


Breathless

by LingeringLilies



Series: Soft Sin [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, PWP, Smut, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LingeringLilies/pseuds/LingeringLilies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa shows Clarke something she's always wanted to try while they make love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> I usually post my one-shots on Tumblr first and put them here when I remember... follow me there. I'm lingeringlilies .

Lexa walks to her armoire, opening it to put her coat inside. As she removes it, she casts a look over her shoulder at Clarke.

As Lexa’s requests go, it’s as clear as she gets.

Clarke walks up behind her, helping Lexa out of her coat, brushing aside her mass of hair to reveal the delicate skin of her neck. She presses her lips there, feeling the soft down and the subtle raise of the scars where the ink was pinned into her. She kisses gently, lips barely moving, setting her mouth in a few places until she feels a quiver.

Clarke doesn’t hesitate to further undress Lexa. She lifts her shirt up and off, letting Lexa’s hair fall over both of them, pushing it aside to kiss the shivery spot again. Lexa’s eyes flutter closed and she exhales as Clarke’s hands cross her stomach, adoring, then slide down to unbutton her pants. Lexa’s breath is almost silent, but Clarke hears the relief. There’s no need to tease or work her up. Lexa is so sensitive, she’s squirming already.

One hand slides between Lexa’s legs, barely touching her, barely moving in the soft slickness as she shakes. The other hand slides up Lexa’s body, cupping her breast. It’s gentle at first, then clutching as Lexa presses into it, knees sagging an inch to get more friction between her legs.

She’s already shivering against Clarke, breath scraping through her. Clarke dips inside and Lexa stutters forward, almost tipping into the armoire. Clarke holds her up, threading her fingers through her deeper, mouth more sucking against her neck.

The first pitiful, gasping moan struggles through Lexa’s throat. She tries to swallow it down, but Clarke’s drawing her up too quickly for her to stay composed. Lexa’s self-conscious of her noises, but Clarke lives for them. She sucks her neck spot harder and Lexa almost buckles.

It’s too easy, sometimes, Clarke thinks. She loves that Lexa is so sensitive, loves how she responds so quickly to every touch, every breath. She starts gentle circling Lexa’s nipple with her index finger: not pinching, not tugging, just teasing. It’s still enough to earn her another whimper. The sound vibrates against Clarke’s lips.

Lexa’s exhales are blissfully overcome as she presses back into Clarke, tipping her head onto Clarke’s shoulder, eyes shut as tries to fill and refill her lungs amidst her shivering. Her hands search for something to hold onto, something to ground herself with. She finds only Clarke. Clasping her hand over Clarke’s where it's teasing her breast, she drags it up her body, over her collarbone to her neck. Her fingers curl around her throat, and she adds the gentlest hint of pressure to Clarke’s hand as she lets out another shivering, joyful breath. It’s neither violent or threatening; just a firm grip over soft skin.

It surprises Clarke whenever Lexa does something directive when they’re making love, but nothing more so than this. To have her hand at Lexa’s throat – in the same place she once pressed a knife – holding her firmly enough that she can feel the pulse opposite the spot where her lips are pressed, feels almost too powerful. She would never hurt Lexa – never would have thought to hold her neck like this in the first place – but the fact that Lexa likes it makes Clarke falter for a second. She gasps against Lexa’s skin, sucking in a hurried, aroused breath before returning her attention to the hand between Lexa’s legs.

Lexa trusts her. Above all other reasons Clarke has to adore her, to shower her with endless affection and love, this is the most precious.

When Lexa removes her hand, Clarke keeps her grip on Lexa’s neck firm but gentle: not enough to constrict her airway, but feeling as though she’s almost holding her up. Lexa bows back into her, quaking. Clarke’s breathing rapidly too now, dampening the skin she’s kissing. She can feel the vibrations of each breath Lexa takes in her fingers, feel the acceleration of her heart against her lips as Lexa nears release. She speeds up her fingers and Lexa starts to go stiff. The tendons in her neck tighten. Clarke wishes she had taken off her own shirt so she could feel Lexa’s skin heating up against hers, but there’s no time.

Lexa breaks through and her knees give out. Clarke tries not to tighten her grip as the hand around her throat slips up to meet Lexa’s jaw. She uses her arms to trap Lexa against her body, holding her up as she shudders and twitches. Her fingers stay steady, drawing through Lexa where they’re trapped between her legs.

She waits for Lexa to shift, then slows and stills her fingers. She feels Lexa’s pulse ricochet through her body: first against her arm where it presses over Lexa’s heart, then against her lips, then against the hand buried in Lexa’s pants. She lets each echo course through her, loving the aftershocks that fire through Lexa’s trembling body. Lexa feels smaller than she is. Probably because Clarke feels so powerful.

When Lexa can support her weight again, she takes a steadying breath, then lifts off Clarke. Clarke removes her hand as Lexa tilts her head forward, gathering her hair over one shoulder, then turns to face Clarke. She’s flushed and happy, a smile playing across her mouth.

But her gaze falls to the floor. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

Clarke lifts an eyebrow, wondering what on earth Lexa could be apologizing for now. She could say a hundred playful things, asking why Lexa hadn’t suggested it sooner, teasing Lexa for being so sensitive, or telling her how delightful she is to make love to. But instead she steps forward, pressing Lexa to the armoire, pinning her up against it, lips to the very spot her hand had been moments before. There are no marks, no blemishes or evidence of her being too rough. She kisses tenderly along the curve, reassuring Lexa with each touch. They’re just getting started, Clarke knows. She reaches down to the hem of her own shirt, lifting it, removing her mouth from Lexa’s skin only long enough to take her shift off. Then she’s pressed against Lexa again, finally skin to skin.

Lexa sighs and Clarke can hear she’s smiling. Of all the things Clarke has achieved, none is more rewarding than that.


End file.
